


My Favourite Game

by crackleviolet



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 06:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17893694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackleviolet/pseuds/crackleviolet
Summary: Jumin has a remote controlled vibrator. MC is suffering even though it was her idea. Title is 100% from that one song by the CardigansJumin x MC | NSFW | Seriously, there’s no plot here





	1. Chapter 1

First things first, MC loves her husband. she loves the careful way he fastens his tie, so completely at odds with the frantic way he drags off her clothes. She loves the way he feeds her strawberries, brushing away excess juice or icing with the flat of his thumb. She loves to watch him pull on his shirt, placing every contour and blemish of his body on display.

Despite his relatively few imperfections, even MC has to admit that there are moments she’s sure she hates him; the tender touches to her thighs when they eat dinner at his father’s house; the breakthrough smirk on his face when she unravels around his fingers.

On this occasion she hates him rather more than usual, though nobody around her seems to have noticed.

BZZZZT

BZZZT

It was Jumin’s idea to throw the dinner party and hers to wear the vibrator; a mischievous suggestion as they dressed for dinner. It started as a joke-the pair of them bemoaning the relatively boring individuals they were to host for the evening.

“I suppose we could make a game of it,” she said, chewing the end of her finger and grinning wickedly as Jumin paused in fastening his tie.

Now she wonders what on earth she was thinking; her thighs quivering with every shock. At first she had very few issues carrying on a regular conversation, though now the vibrator punctuates her every word. Sometimes he is lenient and gives her a second or two to catch her breath and mingle, though the longer the dinner party draws on, the more entertainment he seems to find in building her to the point of climax and then leaving her in suspense.

She currently stands in the corner of the room, gripping onto a cabinet for dear life as the pressure builds. She can think of nothing more than the growing ache between her thighs; a void within her that demands to be filled.

On the other side of the room, Jumin is engaged in small talk. MC is too far away to guess the topic, only that he appears completely expressionless even as he fiddles with the remote control in his pocket. He gives a polite nod to Mr Lee, compliments Mrs Choi’s dress for the evening, laughs at a friendly anecdote. If she didn’t know otherwise, even MC would have trouble believing anything more went on beneath the surface.

She leans back against the cabinet, a cold chill across her back and her fingers trembling. She’s so close, so close that her knees are already wobbling. How has no one in the room noticed her? Are they only pretending they haven’t?

She squeezes past numerous guests with a mumbled apology to anyone she touches. Jumin barely reacts when she takes his arm, instead giving her a soft smile and kiss to the cheek as if he knows nothing about any vibrator and hasn’t spent most of the evening tormenting her. She has no idea how he keeps his composure, nor is she particularly eager to lose the game she suggested in the first place.

“Darling,” she says, with a subtle tug to his arm, “it seems we’re out of wine.”

Naturally, they are not out of wine at all. Jumin planned it carefully from the beginning; every intention of loosening tongues and broaching the topic of new business ventures. Even so, he does not say anything to contradict her, preferring to go along with her lie.

“Well of course we shall have to fix that,” he says, reaching a hand to his pocket as he quietly dismisses himself from the conversation. “Just a moment.”

BZZZZT

_BZZZZT_

**_BZZZZT_ **

MC squeezes her lips together to avoid making a sound. It’s the strongest setting Jumin has used so far and a purposeful move on his part. There is a smugness in the way he places a hand on the small of her back.

They disappear from the party without a word to the guests or even one another. It is only when the bedroom door closes behind them that she stands on her tiptoes to crush her lips against his with an indiscernible growl of  _I hate you_.

There is no time for foreplay; Jumin casts her underwear to one side along with the vibrator, MC not even bothering to kick off her shoes as she falls backwards onto the bed. She clamps a hand over her mouth as Jumin wraps her legs about his waist, unapologetically slamming his hips against hers with rather more force than usual. She comes after only a handful of thrusts, biting down on her fingers to stifle the resulting moans. Jumin takes the opportunity to reach down and drag down the front of her dress, exposing her breasts for when he picks up his pace, taking shallow, fast thrusts that leave MC squirming into his touches and her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

She can think of nothing but the shivers running through her; the pleasure pooling in the pit of her stomach. They are silent but for the squeak of the bed and wet sounds between thrusts; Jumin’s eyes are squeezed shut, teeth grazing his bottom lip. In a way, MC is glad; one moan from him and she will almost certainly lose whatever composure she has left.

It’s with a grin that he lifts her legs over his shoulders, pushing himself into her in the slow, careful manner that means he is about come. MC reaches for a pillow as he hits an exceptionally sensitive bundle of nerves, only for Jumin to lift it out of her hand and cast it to one side. His movements are careful and deliberate now; he wants to see the moment MC falls apart completely.

In the end, it’s his voice that prompts it-a soft, deep moan that he cannot contain as the tension leaves his body and his cock pulses inside of her. MC inhales sharply, waves of pleasure rushing through her and leaving her gasping. She is still gasping even as Jumin catches his breath and unsheathes his cock, dragging off the condom and rearranging his clothes as if they did nothing more than have a casual conversation.

“Do you still hate me?” He asks before leaving to fetch the wine, taking in the sight of her shuddering into the covers. Her every sense is muddled now; her thoughts little more than white noise. Her body feels so much heavier than before; it takes everything she has to pick up the pillow he took from her and launch it at his head. He laughs as he catches it and sets it down on the nearest chair, turning to return to the party, only to reconsider it and bring a glass to her first. It’s clear to them both that she’s going to be there a while.

In truth, he already knows the answer. It doesn’t matter how many times they tease one another; it is never as sincere as when they hold hands or plan the rest of their lives in the ugly hours of the morning.

When MC finally gets to her feet, she loses her balance and wobbles across the bathroom floor, sighing at her disheveled appearance in the mirror. Her dress, her hair, her makeup; all of it is ruined, though she finds she cannot be angry about it. She doesn’t even care that she lost their game and smiles as she puts her lipstick on. The fog is clearing but there’s only one thing on her mind.

Jumin can wear a cock ring next time.


	2. Chapter 2

Revenge is a dish best served naked.

MC has been careful to fix Jumin’s blindfold; smoothing her fingers over the fabric to confirm his obscured view. He turns his head as she leans over him, her hair soft against his exposed skin. He cannot see how very naked she is, even if he can feel the slickness of her folds against his skin as she straddles him. MC supposes that it doesn’t matter; his hands are bound to the bed frame and he cannot touch her even he tries.

After the dinner party, she dared him to a second round; a round where the advantage is hers for her own amusement. She means to be as cruel as he was; to leave him cursing with a sheen of sweat.

Any other man would pose far less of a challenge, melting into her touches within a matter of minutes, but this is Jumin Han and it is impossible to list his virtues without taking note of his incredible composure. MC can think of little else than how satisfying it will be to destroy it and leave him begging for mercy. For that reason more than any other, she cannot hide her smirk as she turns the cock ring over in her fingers.

They have used it only twice before and on both occasions his resolve has been stronger than hers; rolling her over onto all fours before she has the opportunity to see him lose control. He cannot now, though, and takes in a sharp breath as she slides the ring over his cock. She is deliberately slow, fitting it on as if they are virgins and inexperienced in toys. She feels the anticipation in his body; the gentle tug of his wrists against his bindings.

She traces her fingers from the ring and up across his shaft, stroking gently at first. He sucks in another breath, though keeps his composure; MC feeling oddly slighted by how calm he is even then. She wants to hear him beg and plead; wants him to declare that she is terribly cruel. As it stands, he reacts in much the same way as when she tickles him and that simply will not do. MC wants nothing more than to break even.

That’s why she tightens her grip; clenching her fist around his cock and pumping so slowly that it is torturous even for her. Jumin’s breaths grow more and more ragged; his body tensing under her fingers. She builds him up just to break him, though, waiting for a moan to cross his lips before retracting her hands completely.

He bites at his bottom lip, whether in disapproval or passion she cannot quite tell.

“You cannot come without my say so,” she whispers. “Do you promise?”

A smile crosses his face.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he says, sounding so smug that MC makes a point to wait even longer before finally stroking the tip of one finger across the underside of his cock, leaving a shudder of pleasure rippling through his body and his hips bucking upwards.

“I mean to,” says MC, reaching for him once again and picking up an almost unrelentingly fast pace, making sure to squeeze her fingers and thumb when they brush over the tip.

The influx of sensations clearly pleases him; the faster her hands move, the more he clenches his fists and groans into her touches. The louder his groans grow and the more forcefully he bucks into her hands, the faster her pace becomes.

The moment he manages to call her a good girl with slowed syllables reminiscent of a drunken slur, she retracts her hands completely, leaving him high and dry and deeply unhappy about it.

“Please,” he says, tugging at the bed frame, “please…”

“I don’t think I hear you,” MC smirks, to which he arches his back off the bed.

“Please,” he says, gasping for air, “ _try harder._ ”

MC loves nothing more than a challenge and in any other situation would be impressed by his resilience. Right now is not the time for such things, though; she doesn’t want to entertain the idea of losing yet another game.

She builds him up several times more, only to abandon his cock before he can come. At first he merely eggs her on, though the more she teases him and denies him his release, the more audibly desperate he becomes. The fourth time she takes her hands away, he begins to beg and plead.

“Please,” he says, “MC, let me come.”

“Did I give you permission?”

“ _Please_.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

It takes fewer touches now to build him up and he sighs in pleasure as she pulls off the cock ring.

“Tell me,” she says, planting a kiss a little below his navel, “would you like to come?”

“Y-yes,” he gasps. “Please…MC…”

“I’m not sure I should let you,” she sighs, tickling her fingers across his stomach.

He swallows loudly, every breath sending his body shuddering into the bed. MC can tell he is overwhelmed; his need to come weighing on his mind almost as much as his need to win. He is competitive to a fault, but sometimes there are more important things than winning.

“Please MC,” he whines, “I’m begging you…please let me come.”

“Did I win?”

She tickles her fingers across his cock to every syllable, smiling wickedly at the groans that it provokes.

He takes a deep breath and she assumes he means to taunt her further, though ultimately it is something far more satisfying that crosses his lips.

“You win!  _You win_! Please, MC…please, I beg of you.”

She is more than a little bit smug to reach for him now, looping her fingers around the tip of his cock and taking shallow, fast pumps. It takes him only a few seconds to come, roaring with pleasure as he comes and soaks himself with his own release. It spreads across his stomach and down onto the bed, soaking the covers as he drags at the bindings on his wrist. She has never heard him so desperate; gasping so loudly and moaning so deeply that it racks his body.

He lies there panting, covered in his own release and barely seeming to notice when she unties his hands. His expression is serene when she removes the blindfold, cheeks flushed and hair slicked against his forehead. His hands tremble as she sits him up and holds a glass of water to his lips.

It takes him several minutes to gather his composure enough to speak, though when he does, it brings a smile to her face.

“You’re so cruel,” he moans, reaching out a hand to muss her hair.

“Perhaps,” she says, “but I’m also the winner.”

He laughs so weakly that anyone would think he ran a marathon, leaning into her body as she curls up in his arms.

“Just wait until next time,” he whispers in her ear and she laughs as she kisses him on the cheek.

“Don’t get so cocky,” she whispers back. “It is a draw after all.”

Her victory is a matter of pride, though she knows that in games like these the distinction between winner and loser is thinner than rice paper.


End file.
